Springtime Showers & Summer Flowers Errand Mass Thread Fin.

The campgrounds were an area mostly unexplored by June. She had no reason to go, and didn't feel the need to explore outside the castle farther than the reading spots on the grounds that she'd already found. But today, June set foot in the campgrounds proper for the first time. The log cabins stood tall against the afternoon sun, their flags gently waving in the slight breeze.

June liked working with her hands. As childish as it may be to admit, crafts were quite fun. And as she approached the picnic blankets splayed out in the grass, June took a breath of fresh summer air. Summer was on the way.

She sat down near the corner of one of the blankets, next to another blonde-haired Slytherin (though one could argue that her hair was closer to white than blonde). June took a small handful of flowers from the provided bouquet, grabbing a set of instructions that the Riddle, Slytherin prefect and organizer of this activity, had provided. And June began to weave.

In, out, over, around. She found herself falling into a rhythm, periodically grabbing new flowers to add to her... her... Well, she wasn't entirely sure what she was intending to make. A flower crown? A wreath? No matter, June figured this one would be a practice go, a throw-away, the trial to help her reach perfection. After a few minutes of weaving, June came to the end of her loop. She picked up her circle of flowers, turning it in her hand as she observed her handiwork. There was a twist the did the wrong way here, and this flower was facing the wrong way somehow. June put the loop of flowers on her head, seeing if it would fit. It fell over her face. Alright, if she wanted to make a flower crown, clearly she would have to go smaller.

Placing her first attempt aside (in hopes that no one would see it), she looked at the assortment of bouquets for inspiration for her second try. The only ones that caught her eye were the beautifully dainty daisies sitting right next to the other girl. June could have reached over her to grab then, but her manners were too good for that, and she hadn't the courage to break those habits quite yet.

"Excuse me," June said quietly, "would you mind passing me some of those daisies besides you?"

WC: 402

Colin hummed to himself happily as he worked on his crown of flowers. He'd chosen some of the purple iris and white morning glory from the floral explosion that occurred a few minutes ago and wove them into the delicate strands of English ivy. He found some bluebells and cornflower and continued his project.

After a short while, he felt a quiet presence near the blanket he was sitting on. They didn't say anything, but he could hear the delicate sounds of stems being bent and woven together. Whoever it was seemed to be working as intently as himself. He continued to weave and hum, building up the delicate structure, stem after stem. He took special care to nip off any overlarge leaves and to make sure the tinier leaves were evenly distributed towards the outside for greenery and inside to form a cushion against the tough and fibrous stems.

Colin decided to change positions, so he flopped around and lay down on his back. Arranging his hair and his kilt to satisfaction, he continued to weave until he was satisfied. He held it up so the dappled sunlight could illumine its lopsided glory! Just at the same time Colin said: "I hope she'll like it!" another voice spoke.

"Would you mind passing me some of those daisies besides you?"

Colin tilted his head back. He could see a blonde girl, presumably the one who had sat down so quietly earlier. "Oh! Were you talking to me, or is there another silent weaver?" he said. He held his hand out to shade his eyes from the bright light. "I've got daisies if you want!" He reached up to the pile of daisies next to his head and plucked a bunch for the girl. He held them out to her if she wanted to take them. He stared at her upside down face for a moment, before saying more. He spoke quietly: "I know I've seen you in the common room and in some classes --- but I don't think we've met before. I'm Colin!"

He took a deep breath of the fragrant air. "I think this is brilliant --- I'm going to make one for myself too!" He held up Jarael's crown and looked at it, turning it all around. "Heheh! It's a bit lopsided and all, but I hope Jarael won't mind! Are you making one for someone, too?"

@June Selwyn | @Danaë Corentin-Devereux (not sure if she's present but out of Colin's sight)

@Colin McCoire & @June Selwyn

House Colours: Gryffindor

Green eyes glittered with amusement as he watched the scotch boy pleasantly recoil from the Britalian's surprise attack. It felt good to be back in his art once again, and as he looked after the lad, his lithe fingers twirled his yew wand in his left hand, and his right gently clasped to the hag stone kept about his neck.

Tipping his head in curiosity as the boy spouted incredibly lovely poetry speaking of the flowers and their splendour, Piérre couldn't help but listen to it as Figaro continued to browse quietly. Every now and again, Piérre pushed his Bengal's face away from clumps of flowers or buds that Piérre knew enough to recognize as poisonous to his beautiful feline, but for the most part Figaro was contend to roll around and sink his claws into the fresh, grassy earth.

Humming a bit as the boy's last stanza ended, Piérre made up his mind and stood without use of his hands, swaying like a reed as he bobbed and dipped like the fool he was towards the kilt-clad scotch and the girl he sat with. As he did so, a small, playful bubbling of his own lines in a sweet contratenor floated towards the two individuals he approached with as much soundlessness as he could manage in ragged and well-loved walking shoes. Perhaps he should throw them away soon and embrace a barefooted condition, especially on the springy grass...

“To coronate the queen, my lordling bright?
Tis proper to do with these flowers white.
Purple, dear royal, are smooth and cool,
And golden dawn shall bless thine rule.

But no flowers for I, the Jester; I am content
To frolic and gambit and cause mild dissent.
Mine farceable magic was petty jest, tis true.
But I am glad it brought a smile to you.”

Piérre arched a brow, offering a wide sweeping bow towards both the boy and his lady. “The Queen of Hearts, I presume?” he said softly, biting his tongue regardless of the answer. He knew little of the relationships between students in this school, and as of so far, he himself had never been involved in anything even vaguely resembling a tryst of any kind. He was more content to poke fun or play matchmaker, though his tastes of who should end up with whom were often distasteful to one or both of his victims. A puckish smile continued to beam from him as he looked them both up and down, the hag stone swinging from his neck idly.

Curiouser and Curiouser.

Snatching the leather cord of his necklace as he leaned deeply forward, Piérre put the small hole of the hag stone up to his eye to peer through it at the two of them and discern what he could of the secrets that the faerie stone could offer him. (Feel free to put observations he would have noted in particular here if you'd like XD.) Small whispers and foreign, curious tongues seemed to echo in his ears as he looked, all of them offering their own opinions on the strangers before the Jester.

They looked like they could be trusted... Or at least they were as they appeared to be for the time being.

When satisfied, he let the stone fall to his breast again, leaning back and humming as he turned back and forth at the waist to observe the trees and the plantlife around him. Figaro trotted over a bit into view, but tried to stay at a distance in order to watch his brother with the utmost preparedness to leap in at any moment should an immediate threat appear to harm his dear brother.

Colin, still lying on his back with one bare foot resting upon the bent knee of his other leg, tweaked his handiwork a bit as another voice spoke. It was the 'orchid' voice from before, the voice that brought much magic tho this part of the errand.

He stopped humming and listened as the soft voice got closer. A boy approached, chanting some lines of his own. His hair was shortish, brown, and touselled and his bright green eyes were filled with prankish merriment. The boy's smiling face came into view through the lopsided opening of the flower crown Colin had made. His toes pointed towards the boy's impish ear.

"The Queen of Hearts, I presume?" he asked. The boy looked at him and then shifted his gaze. Colin realised he was looking also towards the other girl sitting nearby. Colin tilted his own head back again. The girl hadn't had a chance to answer his question. The older boy was peering at them through a wee hole in a stone on the necklace he wore. He'd be able to see Colin's messy long blond hair, still strewn with flower petals and bits of stem, his bright green eyes looking curiously back at him, the black collar around his neck and a curious necklace made from a large loop of cord with a long fang on it, attached to the cord by a silver wolf's head. Colin's black and green plaid shirt and his olive drab kilt looked heavily worn and his long narrow feet were bare. Tossed over to one side in a heap were his shoes tied over a blackthorn walking stick. Colin's smile radiated a happiness in the moment, while his four long fangs belied some inner belligerence, usually kept veiled.

Colin had seen stones with holes in them, but had never seen such a thing being used this way, so he smiled and, setting his flower crown aside, held up the werewolf fang he wore on a cord around his own neck and held it up towards the boy, aiming the point towards his eye.

And the realisation struck Colin suddenly! He sat up, dropping the fangy pendant back to his chest and scattering petals and leaves that had settled in the folds of his shirt and hair. His eyes widened and he looked quickly from prankish boy to blonde girl and back again. "Sh-she is not Eyes of Sky!" The other boy continued his minute examination of Colin and the girl. He looked back at the girl once more, just to make sure Jarael had not suddenly appeared. No, she was not that girl. Colin knew it, though he couldn't articulate how, but even if she were a metamorphmagus or had drunk some potion, still he would know a counterfeit from the real.

The other boy didn't speak, only continued to look through his stone as Colin returned his curious gaze with one of surprise. Once he recovered from the initial shock, and after a good stare into his similarly green eyes, Colin couldn't help but cock his head and pester the older boy with questions.

"What does your holey stone do? Why does it do that? What spell did you use to explode all the flowers? It was brilliant! Can you show me? I don't know her name! Why did you think she's Eyes of Sky?"

Colin's voice faded and his eyes crossed. He turned slightly away from the boy with the curious stone and lifted up the crown of flowers in both hands and held them out in front of him. He gazed into another world and saw no more in this world. When he spoke at last his voice chanted tenderly and clearly:

I'll crown my queen with blossoms white
under Sun her tender light
coolth of dawn and dewdrop dight
and golden dawn thy light shall swell

I am content with thee to rest
undergone and won my quest
at thy side I am full blessed
Eyes of Sky, my Jarael!

His hands lifted the crown up and a broad smile crept across his face and his heart leapt! Colin fell back onto the blanket, the crown tumbling to his breast and his arms spread wide amid the floral debris of the other boy's spellcraft. His bright green eyes pierced the dappled light of the trees above and saw only the blue eyes of his beloved.

@Piérre Marchonné

Kim’s hair looked good! I wonder… is this his natural hair color? Or is is like a black or brown? Hum… have I ever seen his natural hair color?
Bailey noticed that he had changed it to blonde.
“It looks great on you! Is that your original hair color?”
As she finished her first crown, she placed it on her head. Then she thought maybe I should make some of my friends crowns… Kim and Colin are here already, so they don’t need crowns. But… I could make-
Then Kim asked if she was going to make other crowns. She smiled and said “Yes! I’m just trying to decide who to make them for… I was thinking I could make one for @Draven Mirador, maybe @Noah Jupe and @Quinn Root and @Emma Wynn. What about you? Are you going to make other crowns as well?”
As Bailey set to work making a green and black crown for Draven, she waited for Kim’s response. He seemed a little panicked, but she was not sure why.

Reducio

Next she went to work on a crown for Emma. She went with a gold and black and yellow theme, and it turned out quite nicely!

Reducio

For Noah’s crown, Bailey weaved some red and blue flowers and some white ribbon, to make it how she thought noah would like it.

Reducio

https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/imag ... g&usqp=CAU
But with white ribbons

Be the Light. She had painted that on a rock and left it in the Hogwarts Time capsule just days before. Accompanying the rock was a letter she had composed, left to the future witches and wizards 10 years down the road telling them that they, too, could 'Be the Light' if they so desired. She was most sincere in her belief that such was the case when she happily and confidently left a tiny slice of the best part of herself in that capsule.

But life is fluid and things can change... will change.

She had always secretly thought (hoped?) that being the light was a little gift she had to offer any who crossed her path. Sure, there were others who were more gregarious and much more fun.... or perceived to be so at any rate. If one was trying to be the light, did that light burn brighter the more attention one drew to themselves? She had never thought that to be the case; she had always thought small, quiet voices had as much power to lighten a darkened room, world, or even a heart. Her faith taught her as much. She believed what she had been taught.

But AngelFyre was currently drowning in more and more moments of personal crises while finding it hard to believe much of anything she had thought to be true about herself.

Lights burned bright. She was only a mere flicker. Easily... so easily...snuffed out.

Darkness. Emptiness. Confusion. Hurt.

Just a few days earlier her friend, Colin, off handedly said, “Three kinds of folk into trances fall: the poet, the seer, the fool”. It hit a nerve in that moment that AngelFyre was not even aware was exposed. She knew she was no fool. She may be having doubts about herself, but that much she was certain about. A poet? No, not really. An artful phrase here or there and a deep appreciation for it, but no, not a poet either. Colin. Now Colin was the poet. That left but one kind of folk. A seer. What exactly was a seer? She had no idea but she had made it her mission for the last few days to find out, and find out she had.

Upon arriving at Hogwarts, one of the things she did was to write home asking her mother and Grandma Ruth to look into their family history. She needed to know how it was that she was of magic when no one on either side of the family seemed to be. She even jokingly asked her family days before leaving for Hogwarts if she were adopted. She was not, they assured her. But not too long after making the request for a deep dive into the family genealogy, a treasure trove of information was uncovered that clearly pointed to her magical origins. That together with what she had discovered in the Library led her to believe that she might actually be a Seer. It would explain so much.

But would she be believed? Would she be taken seriously? On the 10 scale of magic, with 10 being granite solid, Transfiguration rated a solid 10. Much of what she read on Seers, however, had them on the exact opposite end of the scale; like in “Crackpot” territory.

‘I know what I know. I just do not know how I know what I know or why I know it.

It was not a worry of hers that he would think she was a crackpot. It was a worry of hers that even so, it still would make not the slightest bit of difference in the question she must ask of him and the answer he must give to her.

Funny how one's mind and body can go on auto pilot and do things while another part of one's mind is deeply engaged in thought. As she had been sitting there, thinking her dark thoughts, her conscious mind surfaced long enough to realize she had apparently already gathered the flowers she would need to make her floral crown. Looking at everything before her, she shook her head ever so slightly when she noted the flowers before her were blue and yellowish(gold?). Of course they would be. That was her automatic pilot at work. Her center of gravity was Simon, was it not? So on some subconscious level it made some kind of sense that those colors would be what she would collect without thinking about it, because really, she was ALWAYS thinking about him on some level.

Making an effort to focus on weaving the lovely flowers together, she watched her fingers with purposeful intention as they bent and pressed and wrapped the stems this way and that in a pattern of colorfully, fragrant loveliness. As the crown became lovelier and lovelier, so too grew the dark ugliness, disproportionately shadowing all that seemed to be the joy and light within her.

The darkness was a fear of things known and unknown. She had done all the things that had worked for her in the past to dispel such feelings, but nothing had hit the mark. Even fervent prayer right now was feeling as if it were landing on deaf ears. She was constantly reminding her self that God ALWAYS answered prayers, but sometimes the answer is not a firm ‘yes’ or ‘no’, but can also be a ‘not at this time’.

“God, please take this,” she had prayed, “I do not want to be a laughingstock. A joke. Someone to be mocked.” She put the final touches on the crown. “What good does it do me to have what I have if it is just smoke and mirrors?”

Now blinking slowly at the crown in her hands, she could feel it. But could she really? “What if what I thought was real.... is not?

What has been risked?

What is being risked now?

What will be risked?

Having no answers that soothed her heart and troubled mind, AngelFyre tidied up her little crafting area and rose from her chair. Picking up the floral crown, she decided she would take it to the Great Lake and set it adrift on the calm, dark water.

Be the Light?
She was no one’s light.

AngelFyre has left the thread.

@Colin McCoire, @June Selwyn, & @Kim Sato

House Colours: Gryffindor

The corners of the Jester's mouth lifted in an amused smile as the kilted boy held up the tooth necklace and tried to look back at Piérre through it. His eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them through his veil-parting hag stone for a bit longer, revelling in the claims that he had made.

When the scotch boy had jerked suddenly at realizing what the Jester had been insinuating, Piérre had instinctively flinched away in preparation for a sudden strike though none came. When he realized that no harm would come to him, he grinned broadly. Oops. He had mistaken a relationship again with his outrageous ability of assumption.

Wouldn't have been the first time.

His smile continued to beam even as the scotch fired off rapid questions at the Jester himself. With small laugh, the boy responded. “So many questions. And just as many answers, I assure you.”

Swooping to the ground, Piérre crisscrossed on the grass, putting his elbows on his knees, head in his hands, and leaned in towards the opposite boy as if to share a special secret. “Answers for your name, tis the faerie trade.” Piérre tweaked one of his own ears, toying with one of the yew berries on his flower crown. “I like names...” his 's' trailed off into a teasing hiss.

Regardless of the boy's compliance, Piérre would answer the boy's questions with utmost intrigue and honesty. “Lets me see the real world better. Orchideous, the flower producing charm. You'll learn it eventually. Because... I dunno. You two look cute together?” Piérre closed one eye, sticking out his tongue impishly.

Despite himself, the boy couldn't help but remember when he had been so naïf and fun loving without restriction. The cheer and the brightness of soul was something that the Jester remembered with bittersweetness his first year when he had tried to shatter a once unaccustomed to real friendship state of being.

His smile faded for the first time as he kept his eyes of the boy, a realization slowly coming over him.

“I was who are are. I am what you will become.” He looked to the side as he chewed on his thumb a bit with worry and the sudden need to improvise.

No... He couldn't let that happen to himself again. This boy didn't deserve that in the slightest.

But what could he do about it?

“Nobody is what they seem here. Don't forget that.” Piérre returned his gaze to the boy. His eyes had turned hard as glass. “That might save your life one day.” A smile again, and the eyes softened into their former mirth. Piérre began to pick at the grass, trying to find a clover in the green.

Meanwhile, Figaro's nose was in the air, picking up an elusive and delightful scent that belonged st a blonde boy not to far away from where he was rolling. Though the cat did not see where the boy ran off too, the cat could smell him...

And he was off to look for him.

Colin noticed little details. The boy with the holey stone had flinched when Colin sat up in surprise. Had he expected Colin to attack him or something? He wouldn't have --- not for a mistake like that. But he wondered if there weren't something deeper. It saddened him when people reacted that way to him. This boy couldn't possibly know what Colin was; yet could he somehow sense the danger Colin represented?

The knowledge that people would likely see him as more dangerous than friendly was only beginning to weigh on him. But for now, the thought was shoved aside as the boy set about answering his questions. He sat down with his legs crossed, and Colin sat up, mirroring his conspiratorial posture. He didn't know who this boy was, but he felt a strange sense of ease around him. Technically, the boy had attacked him, right? Yet Colin felt no sense of being attacked. Twas as if Boreas had sent a momentary breath of cool breeze on a hot summer's day. It bore no terror of winter.

The boy reminded him in some ways of his Jarael. And also of himself. There was a kind of untamed, perhaps untamable, freedom of spirit. None of them seemed to care what others thought of them and they each inhabited their own worlds apart from the world of everyday that many of their peers seemed so content to swim and compete within. Who would they compete with, if not themselves?

Colin's brow furrowed at the mention of a Faerie trade --- how much did this boy know of the Gentle Folk? Not the wee fairies they studied in magical creatures, whose wings were plucked for potions, but the folk of the Old Stories. Strange was their magic of old, and Colin hesitated briefly before giving the boy his name. Part of him knew that the name was the thing and to know the name conferred a kind of ownership to the name knower. Yet he also knew that the giving of one's name implied a contract of sorts, imposed a kind of geas. For, he would expect the boy to give his own name in return, and thus they would share in the knowledge of names; one could not abuse the name of the other without fear of reprisal!

He leaned in close to the other boy. He stared into his green eyes. Tis almost like looking into a mirror, Colin thought. He grinned at the boy. "The eyes are the mirror of the soul. What do you see when you look in this mirror?" He laughed merrily. "My name is Colin!"

It was Colin's turn to flinch when the stone peering boy said that he and the girl behind him looked cute together. His eyes opened wide in disbelief. Part of him rose up with an indignant girls!? eww!! But that part was withered by the small voice that said he hasn't seen us with Eyes of Sky, has he? Colin looked back towards his blonde housemate. She didn't appear to have heard, or if she did chose not to respond.

Colin turned back to his curious interlocutor. "She's not Eyes of Sky!" he said defiantly. Talk about names having power! Colin literally broke the egg of the universe, dividing the cosmos in twain. There was now that which was gloriously and wonderfully Jarael and then there was everything else. The boy stuck out his tongue and winked. Perhaps he meant no harm after all!

“I was who are are. I am what you will become.” The other boy's conversation suddenly became deep as an ocean. Colin wondered where this came from! He was older, but how much older? He wondered what had happened to him. His expression seemed to strain as it transformed from the untamable to the ground down and beaten. “Nobody is what they seem here. Don't forget that. That might save your life one day.”

As Colin thought about these words, another voice, little more than a whisper, floated on the slight breeze of the day. A familiar voice. A voice usually filled with joy, but now bearing some heavy burden. It was a whispered prayer. A raising up of that burden, and Colin's eyes unfocused. He became torn between the two burden bearers. Both he knew had suffered some kind of violence, deep in the mind or deep in the heart, and his own melted for them.

The owner of the familiar voice rose and left, leaving him with this strange boy: the stone peerer, the boy whose attacks were as gentle as flower petals, who seemed at once merry and sorrowful. The boy was once Colin and who Colin shall become. They shared that too: both were bearers of heavy burdens. Colin decided to find his fiery friend later; this boy had captured his attention here and now.

Colin continued to look into the green eyes of the other boy. He said gravely: "I shall not forget those words, though I --- I don't fully understand them." He bit his lip and looked down at the crown of flowers in his hands. His pensive expression melted away and was replaced by one of joy. He looked up again at the other boy. He raised up the crown between their faces and peered at the boy though its floral frame. "I am exactly what I seem!"

He gave the boy a fang revealing smile.

He tilted his head slightly to the left.

"Are not you?"

Colin laughed merrily, snugged the crown onto his head and stood up, showering the last remaining orchideous petals from his shirt and kilt. He turned away from the boy with the green eyes, retrieved his walking stick with its shoes slung over the end and skipped away from the place, his bare feet making hardly any sound on the earthen path.

"Owooooooooo!" he cried as he went. His heart was light as if its burden were lifted from above by an unknown hand.

@Piérre Marchonné | @Jarael Morningstar | @AngelFyre McCubbin

Colin has left the thread.